


What's the Deal With Sympathy?

by then00breturns1101



Category: (no tag for it yet), Undertale (Video Game), Villainous
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Abuse, Abusive work conditions (?), Angst, Crying, Depression, Emotions????, Gaster can't deal with emotions, Gen, How to be a good dad???, Mafia AU, Mafiatale (sorta), Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Redemption arc (kinda), Sad Backstory, Scary Gaster, Sympathy, angsty backstory, crossover fic, cursing, hella angst, help them, idk how to tag shit, injuries, it might come back but let's assume it won't, possible grillster later if i want it there
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-11-02 23:54:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10955376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/then00breturns1101/pseuds/then00breturns1101
Summary: Doctor W.D. Gaster was not someone you would call kind. He was cold, calculating, and feared. He was determined and incredibly intelligent. And he was the most powerful mob boss known.Well, almost.A super powerful, seemingly heartless mob boss finds a scared, meek scientist who feels just a little too familiar.(and NO they will not be shipped!!)CURRENTLY DISCONTINUED/ON HIATUS





	1. Rivalry

**Author's Note:**

> hi it's me again i'm in villainous hell and uh  
> dr flug reminds me of gaster sooooooooooo  
> here's some stuff! hopefully it won't be forgotten forever! prepare for angsty backstories and shit :)

Doctor W.D. Gaster was not someone you would call kind. He was cold, calculating, and feared. He was determined and incredibly intelligent. And he was the most powerful mob boss known.

Well, almost.

Dr. Gaster was the boss of the Bad Time Crew, which was a small but extremely strong team. Or rather, duo. His two sons, Sans and Papyrus, did most of the fighting and _damn_ were they good at it. Gaster wasn’t much of a father to them, really. Not anymore. But he tried to do what he could, what with his lack of emotions thanks to his high LV. He’d make sure they had enough money and resources for their mission. If they were in over their heads, he would send backup. Once, it was so bad that he himself had to come in and help them. He was gone before they could acknowledge him.

This crew wasn’t invincible, though. They were rivals with one other infuriatingly tough mob, Black Hat Inc. There were three visible members of that team: Black Hat himself, the boss who didn’t like getting his hands dirty but loved knocking some heads with advanced weaponry. Dementia, the crazed redheaded maniac who could kill someone with her bare hands (and possibly teeth). 5.0.5., the definitely not normal blue bear that could decimate multiple people at a time with ease. They were a force to be reckoned with.

But so were Papyrus and Sans.

With their magic, they could hold their own against the Black Hats. They’d fought head-to-head before, and nobody had ever managed to win. They were neck-and-neck.

 

* * *

 

 

An assistant entered Dr. Gaster’s room. They told him something and his face deepened into a frown. He dismissed them, sitting down at his desk.

Black Hat had found his hideout and was planning an attack. Gaster would have to tell Sans and Papyrus to evacuate and set up somewhere new. They couldn’t stay and risk getting killed.

There was an upside to this, though. The spies that had intercepted Black Hat’s knowledge of the hideout had also found out his own headquarters. Gears began turning in Gaster’s head and he grinned.

He would strike first.

 

* * *

 

 

After two days of moving, preparing, and planning, the plan was ready. They knew when Black Hat would strike. He was going to go to their ex-hideout along with Dementia and 5.0.5. to ambush Papyrus and Sans, and then move quickly to kill Gaster next. Their plan was genius, Gaster had to admit. But it left their own base undefended.

For the first time in three years, Gaster was going on a mission with his sons. It wasn’t going to be anything friendly, amicable, or familial by a long shot. No. They would go in, steal anything they found useful, blow the whole place up, and then leave and go their separate ways again. No more than that.

Things didn’t exactly go according to plan.

 

Of course, the way it started, everything seemed perfect. Sans and Papyrus ransacked everything while Gaster moved to the lab. That was where the important stuff was. He blasted down the door and stepped in. Two things surprised him.

One, the lights were on.

Two, there was someone in the room.

 


	2. New Job

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i loooove writing intimidating gaster >:]

“P-please don’t hurt me!”

There was someone in the room. Gaster stepped closer and looked around to find someone cowering under a table. They were wearing a white lab coat, gloves, and most noticeably, a paper bag and goggles over their head.

“T-take whatever you want, but p-please don’t kill me!”

Gaster’s eyes narrowed. He knelt down in front of the table and summoned a magic bone attack. The person flinched, shaking.

“Who the hell are you,” Gaster demanded menacingly.

“I-I’m D-Doctor Flug,” he stammered, not letting his eyes off of the floating bone. “I w-work for B-Black Hat Incorporated. B-but I don’t want any trouble! I d-didn’t really want t-to attack your base!”

Dr. Flug’s hands flew to where his mouth would be and he stared at Gaster in terror. Gaster sighed and dispelled the attack. He seized Flug’s soul, turning it purple, and pulled him out from under the table.

“I’m not going to kill you. You’re much more useful to me alive.”

Somehow, this frightened Flug even more. He was shaking as Gaster took him away.

 

* * *

 

 

Sans and Papyrus asked who the paper bag-headed scientist was, and Gaster just replied “my new employee” and teleported away, much to the shock of Dr. Flug.

“H-how did you do that??” he asked, eyes darting to take in the surroundings. He and Gaster were in a lab. It looked quite like Flug’s own at Black Hat Inc.

“Magic,” Gaster dismissed as he waved his holed hand and summoned several more magical hands that started working on menial tasks. Turning on the lights, straightening papers, and one of them opened a door.

“I’ve been needing an assistant for a while now. Nobody has been competent enough to do it… and survive,” he added with a menacing grin. Truthfully, no one had done it at all. He just said that to see Flug’s reaction, which was a satisfying quiver of fear. Good. A floating hand turned on the lights in the new room and closed the door, while two more pulled up chairs.

“Sit down,” he commanded. Dr. Flug did as he was told, sitting on one of the chairs. Gaster sat in the other. He looked at ease, his glowing white pupils staring at Flug’s eyes.

“As you might have heard me mention earlier, you are going to be my new employee. My assistant. This lab here will be your workplace, and over there is a door to your quarters. Food, clothing, and housing will all be taken care of for you. That’ll be your paycheck, in a sense.” Gaster now stood up, meandering around the room and looking at the various machines.

“Normally, a test would be in order. I, of course, want to know what you would be capable of. But you’ve already passed with flying colors,” Gaster assured, sitting back down. “I know you’re behind everything at Black Hat Incorporated.”

Flug was a bit surprised. He thought his identity and role were kept secret!

“W-what? How d-did you…” he started, fumbling. “W-well, I’m not behind _everything-_ ”

“Of course, of course,” Gaster dismissed, “just the important parts. Black Hat may be the one in charge, but I know you work behind the scenes. You’ve created every one of their damned inventions, haven’t you?”

Dr. Flug nodded meekly. A smile crept onto Gaster’s face.

“Then you should be perfectly capable of keeping up with me. Your efforts are wasted working against me, but if you join me, you have far more potential. Well, is it a deal?” He extended a skeletal hand.

Dr. Flug looked at it, then back up at Gaster.

“I… I d-don’t really have a choice, do I?” Gaster smirked and his right eye flashed purple.

“It’s all up to you.” His tone was menacing and everything was implying that no, Flug did not really have a choice in the matter. He sighed and shook Gaster’s hand with his own gloved one.

“Alright, Doctor Gaster. I’ll work for you.”


	3. Accidents Happen

Gaster directed Flug to his quarters, and then left the room to go back to his own. Once he was back in safety, he sat down, sighing. He _hated_ direct interaction. Hopefully, that would be the longest he’d have to speak with Flug at a time, and the rest would be just orders and check-ins. Keeping that constant air of intimidation and superiority could really be a chore sometimes. At least he wouldn’t have to put too much effort in with Flug. He seemed scared of everything, and terrified of Gaster…

...He tried not to think about that too much.

 

 

Flug sat down on the bed, holding his elbows. Great. He had a new boss now, one who was possibly scarier than the old one. So far, Gaster seemed much colder. He didn’t look like he was the type to get angry and yell, like Black Hat used to do. But he’d only just met him. The true test would be the first time Flug fucked up a project and had to see Gaster’s reaction. That could end very, very badly. Black Hat never had any qualms about resorting to violence when angered. Flug’s hand went to his chest and memories of the worst such incidents flashed through his mind.

…He tried not to think about that too much.

 

The next day, he was woken up by Gaster. Surprisingly, his skeletal boss hadn’t barged in, but knocked. Grateful for the privacy, Flug donned his paper hat and goggles and opened the door. He was handed a sheet of paper.

“Here’s what I need. It’s part of a major project. It’s big for your first assignment, but I’m sure you won’t disappoint.”

Gaster’s eye flashed menacingly and he disappeared, leaving Flug holding the paper. He read it and started sweating. Shit. This looked difficult. He took a few deep breaths, steadying himself. Okay. He could do this.

 

* * *

 

 

“WHAT THE _FUCK?!”_

Black Hat let out an enraged scream. Behind him, Dementia and 5.0.5. flinched.

“ _The whole damn base is GONE!!”_ he yelled. It was. Where their headquarters had previously stood, a pile of burnt rubble lay. There was nothing recognizable left of the place. Dementia spoke up.

“Didn’t we leave paperhead here…?”

There was a tense silence. Black Hat was fuming. 5.0.5. looked like he was about to cry. Dementia felt a pit in her stomach growing.

“Of COURSE we left him here, Dementia!! He’s useless for a mission! Where else could he possibly be?!”

“I just meant that if we left him here…” she looked at the rubble. Her head was getting cold. “That means he must have gone down with the building, wouldn’t it?”

Another pause. Black Hat got a look on his face that Dementia had never seen before. 5.0.5. started bawling.

“SHUT UP, you miserable hairball!” Black Hat snapped, and 5.0.5. sniffled and went silent. “Pull yourselves together. He’s got to have a machine of some sort that would keep his useless ass alive. He’s stupid, but not _that_ stupid! Come on.” He motioned roughly and Dementia and 5.0.5. followed. Somehow, Dementia doubted they’d find the doctor alive.

 

* * *

 

 

Dr. Flug was making good work. This thing was big, but he had all the supplies he could dream of and whenever he needed more, he just needed to ask and he’d have them within a few hours. Four days later, the machine was almost done. He just had to be extremely careful with the final part and not mix up _any_ dosages of the highly reactive ingredients, or-

An electric shock tore through the device as Flug’s eyes widened in fear. It cracked, and then exploded with terrifying force. Flug was left pinned against the wall with a large piece of metal trapping him. The smoke cleared and he knew at least one of his ribs were broken, as each cough due to smoke sent stabs of pain through him. He tried to get the metal off him, but he wasn’t strong enough.

He heard quick footsteps at the door and started to panic. _No. No no no he fucked up he broke it now Gaster will be mad he’ll be angrier than Black Hat he’ll attack him he’ll threaten him he’ll hurt him everything will be even worse than before._

The door swung open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh boy... what's gaster gonna say? what's he gonna do???


	4. Parallels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> time to see what happens

A huge explosion sounded out. Gaster jumped as he heard it. It was coming from Dr. Flug’s lab. Oh, this was just fantastic.

He walked hurriedly to the lab, opening the door and coughing at the cloud of smoke that greeted him. Opening his eyes, he looked around. The whole place was a wreck; the explosion had destroyed everything. As he scanned the room, his eyes fell on Flug, coughing and struggling to free himself from a huge hunk of metal trapping him. When his eyes met Gaster’s, they widened and he began to panic.

“I-I’m sorry! I’m s-sorry, I’m- _cough-_ s-so sorry! I- _cough-_ I c-can- _cough cough-_ I can f-fix it, i-it w-won’t- _cough-_ happen a-again! I- _cough-_ I’ll do b-better, I promise! P-please- _cough-_ please give m-me- _cough-_ j-just give me- _cough-_ more t-time a-and I can- _cough-_ fix it…”

Flug’s frantic and rushed apology came interspersed with increasingly painful-sounding wheezing. He was shaking and coughing violently by the end, no longer able to speak. Tears were soaking through the paper bag and they dripped out from underneath it. Flug was panicking more than he thought was possible. This was one of his worst fuck-ups, and for his first project for a brand-new boss, too. He could literally die here. He would die. Gaster would kill him for sure.

 

Gaster stared as he listened to his panicked speech. His eyes had gone dark. He could almost feel himself shaking.

He knew that Dr. Flug was uncomfortably familiar, but he didn’t realize that it was like _this._ He was already planning on treating him strictly but fairly, while still keeping his cold and scary demeanor. He didn’t know how long he could keep that façade up, though. This struck too close to home.

When Flug had been tearfully begging for mercy, Gaster hadn’t heard that voice.

He had heard his own.

 

It took a few seconds before Gaster could collect himself. He shifted the metal aside, freeing Flug, and walked towards him. In response, Flug curled in on himself, shaking. Gaster knelt down to his level and extended a hand.

“Get up. I won’t hurt you,” he said, with more softness than usual. Flug opened one eye and looked at him, hesitating before he took Gaster’s hand. Turning his soul purple, he pulled Dr. Flug up to his feet. Once his soul was back to normal, though, he stumbled and cried out. Yep, that was his knee. Gaster caught him again.

“…You’re hurt,” he stated simply. He wasn’t sure what to do. He didn’t have any green magic; his LV was much too high to allow for that. He could see Flug was in significant pain, but he… he just didn’t know how to react. He didn’t know how to deal with injuries, he never got hurt, nor had he ever seen anyone else get hurt. That is, anyone else on his side. He had no way to help him.

Gaster’s mind raced frantically and he dug into old memories long since buried. Ok, he could… probably help… somehow? He had a basic understanding of human biology, as his was practically identical at the skeletal level, and Flug seemed to have broken bones. Ok. He could do this.

Lifting him off the floor a bit, Gaster led Flug to his own lab and lay him down on the operating table. As soon as Flug realized what he was on, he almost started panicking again. Gaster held him down by his soul.

“I’ll be right back. _Don’t move,_ ” he ordered, and teleported away. There had to be a first aid kit somewhere...

 

* * *

 

 

Flug lay on the operating table, breathing strained and painful. At least he wasn’t coughing anymore, but literally everything else was still hurting horribly.

Well, at least Gaster hadn’t attacked him. That had been rather surprising, actually. Being treated with kindness was not something he was used to.

Soon enough, Gaster returned, holding a box. It was a first aid kit. This was way more help than he had anticipated- he used to just treat his own injuries.

“W-wait, it’s fine, I can do it myself,” he protested. Gaster shook his head, setting down the box and opening it.

“Not in your state, you can’t,” he said, pulling on a pair of gloves. He sighed a bit. Helping others was never something he’d been good at. “Where were you injured?”

Flug hesitated before answering his question.

“Ribs… and left knee. Those are the worst spots,” he told him. Of course, there were plenty of other places that hurt, but those were just bruises and burns. Gaster nodded.

“Alright,” he said, and then silently got to work. He pulled up Flug’s shirt and checked his ribs. Two broken. He couldn’t really do anything about those; they’d have to heal on their own. Then he pulled his pant leg up and checked his knee, which was dislocated. Again, he warned Flug before setting it back into place and wrapping it in bandages. When that was done, he stepped back and paused a bit as Flug caught his breath.

“Anything else you need?” Gaster asked mechanically, trying to keep emotion out of his voice. Somehow it was creeping in. Somehow.

“N-no, the rest is all superficial. I can t-take care of it,” Flug assured, wincing as he sat up.

“Alright. Keep the kit,” Gaster replied. Flug grabbed the first aid kit before he was tugged away into his quarters by his soul and sat down on his bed. “You’ll be taking off work for a while so you can recover. If you need a wheelchair, crutches, or the like, we can get some. Request it by the supply line.” With that, Gaster teleported away, leaving Flug alone in a tense silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aww, gaster isn't a heartless monster! so to speak...


	5. Reflection

Gaster sat down on his bed as soon as he teleported there, holding his skull in his hands. He could feel his breathing speed up. That was an experience he was not prepared to have.

First, Flug’s lab was gone and he’d have to replace it, as well as provide new material for another try at that machine. That would be a hassle.

Second, he may have overestimated Dr. Flug’s abilities. Assigning him something so large-scale as his first project may not have been the most reasonable thing to do.

Third… his reaction. Flug had been _terrified._ Crying, hyperventilating, begging for mercy. Gaster winced as he thought about it. He was once like that. _He had been in that same position._

Gaster sighed, eyes dark. Something had happened to Dr. Flug. By the looks of it, it was more like some _things._ Chances were, Black Hat had done it. Damn him. Damn him for forcing someone else to go through the same hell that Gaster had. He cursed quietly, and then the anger drained away.

Someone else had to go through the same hell that he had. Even though that was bad, it provided some comfort.

He wasn’t alone.

 _He wasn’t alone anymore._ Someone understood, he could talk to him, he could-

Gaster shook himself out of his thoughts. What was he doing? Where was all this sentimental shit coming from? He couldn’t just get soft, that would ruin everything. Was his LV going down? Was it being cancelled out?

He’d heard stories about once-powerful monsters who had high LV whose emotions came back after something happened that changed in their life. Fuck. That could be happening to him. He could stop it by… he could only stop it by becoming cruel to Flug, presumably the cause of this, or killing him. Actually, killing might only speed up the emotions due to remorse. The only way to get himself back to that controlled numbness was deliberate cruelty.

Gaster sighed. There was no way he could do that. He couldn’t inflict that on another person… especially when Flug had already obviously been through it. And with Gaster’s own past… no. He couldn’t do that.

He would just have to accept the returning emotions as they came. Hopefully deal with most, and hide them when he needed to. It would be fine.

 

* * *

 

 

Flug laid down, winced at the movement, and slipped the bag off. He needed some air right now, and breathing was hard enough with just the broken ribs. He stared up at the ceiling.

Gaster’s reaction had been _completely_ unexpected. He didn’t hit him, he didn’t yell at him, he didn’t threaten him… only helped him. That… that never happened.

When he was working for Black Hat, rules were strict and punishments were harsh. A missed deadline resulted in no food until it was done. If a product malfunctioned, Flug would have Black Hat’s rage at his heels. When an invention of his _did_ work fine, he wouldn’t receive praise, just quiet nods at best and thinly veiled threats at worst. He couldn’t really get himself to leave, though. The security on the place was impenetrable. Black Hat had forced him to create no weaknesses, so even he couldn’t get out. He was trapped.

But now he wasn’t. He had a new boss now, Gaster. And he wasn’t too sure how to feel about him.

Gaster had been intimidating, no, downright terrifying when Flug had first met him. Part of him feared that he would be a worse fate than Black Hat had been. After what had just happened, though, he wasn’t quite as scared of him.

There was something strange about the look Gaster had given him when Flug was panicking earlier. It felt eerie and unnatural. His white pupils had been gone then, leaving only empty black sockets that stared into nothing. It was unnerving.

Something told Flug that it had been equally unnerving from Gaster’s perspective as well.


	6. Breaking Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shit gets good now :)

It was taking him a while, but about a few days later, Flug’s knee and ribs were recovered enough for him to get back to work. The trace magic in monster food greatly sped up the healing process. By then, his lab was fixed, too. Flug walked out of his room and went to his lab, surprised to find Gaster standing there, organizing things with his disembodied magic hands. He turned around as he saw Flug.

“Hello. I see you’re walking without a problem,” he observed, taking a glance at Flug.

“W-well, about that, I think I’m ready to work again,” Flug said, straightening his posture. Gaster nodded.

“Alright. Your lab has been repaired, but the layout is different. Take the morning to find out where everything is, and you’ll have a new assignment this afternoon.” Gaster started to walk out of the room, the extra hands disappearing.

“B-but sir! I didn’t even finish the first one, it… broke…” Flug trailed off. Shit. He was _never_ supposed to talk back to his boss! If Gaster hadn’t been angry before, he’d be angry now… Flug watched, almost shaking, as he turned around.

“I shouldn’t have given you that first assignment. For your first one, it was too difficult. This one will be more straightforward,” Gaster said before turning again and walking out. Flug stared at the closed door.

He was pushing his luck. This was at least twice now where he had done something warranting punishment and got none. What the hell was up with Gaster? What was all this?

…A test, probably. Gaster had said the first assignment was too difficult. It wasn’t too difficult; he could’ve done it if he wasn’t such a massive fuck-up at just about _everything._ And now Gaster thought he was an idiot (which he was) and he’d probably be stuck doing mindless, menial tasks the rest of his life.

He’d probably mess those up, too, and then Gaster would hate him. He’d be punished, he’d get exactly what he deserved, and things wouldn’t change. They never did. He could never get better. He didn’t deserve to, anyways. He was worthless.

After all, how many mistakes had he made? How much damage had he done? He didn’t deserve forgiveness or kindness. He deserved nothing.

Flug curled up under a table and fought the urge to cry.

 

* * *

 

 

Gaster hit his head lightly against the desk a few times, making a dull _thunk_.

What. Was. He. Doing. He was getting _soft;_ he couldn’t _do_ that! How was he supposed to do his job if he was getting attached to people all willy-nilly? You couldn’t be in the profession he was in without breaking a few bonds, and he thought he had those taken care of!

Shit. No, no he shouldn’t think about them, he shouldn’t think about them, they’re _gone_ and he would never get them back. If they all didn’t hate him already, they would eventually. It’d be fine if they did.

He couldn’t have attachments. He had to be alone.

Alone.

He was _alone._

Gaster put his head on his arms, resting it on the table. For the first time in years, he really felt lonely. He had no one, _no one,_ to talk to. No one to be with. No one who _cared._

He tried to shut his mind up about this. Of course he was alone, he had to be! He was fine. It was perfectly possible to live alone and not become a weak, pathetic, crying, dependent _mess._ He was fine. It was fine. Nothing was wrong at all. _Nothing._

Nothing. Nobody. Nobody left to ca-

“ _Shut up!!”_ Gaster yelled, gripping his skull. “Shut up shut up shut _up shut up shut UP!”_

He felt an ache in his chest. It was getting hard to breathe, and every time he tried, it would hitch. There was a painful pressure behind his eyes and in his throat. No. No, he knew this feeling, he was not going to _cry,_ he was a _mob boss,_ mob bosses don’t cry like a pathetic weakling who breaks down in tears every time he fucked up, he always fucked up, he deserved it, they were right, he was a mistake. He _was_ a mistake.

Gaster tried in vain to control his breathing. Why was everything happening now? He wasn’t _that_ attached, why was everything coming back so quickly? He didn’t want anything back, he wanted it to be the way it was before, all empty and numb, it was so _easy_ then…

He slipped off the chair and crawled under the desk, curling up in the corner. He used to do this all the time when…

He let out a strangled sob that was barely muffled by his hands. No. He wouldn’t cry, he wouldn’t…

Gaster gave up the fight as tears rolled down his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh btw updates might slow down now! i'm in a big block for chapter 7 and lots of school stuff is happening.


	7. Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god guys i am SO SORRY for the lateness of this chapter!!!!  
> finals and projects and school were all kicking my ass at once (and the MASSIVE writer's block for this chapter didn't help) and i just never had any energy to write. but now school's p much done and i can write again! yay!

Everywhere. They had searched _everywhere_ for the scientist, but Dr. Flug was nowhere to be found. 505 was dejected and miserable. Dementia was feeling strangely empty. Black Hat could practically ignite something by brushing up against it. To say he was furious was an understatement.

He had been made a fool of. He’d been tricked and mocked and now he’d have to replace his inventor. _Damn it!!_ It had been near impossible finding anyone barely competent! Oh, well. There was probably someone who was better than Flug had been. After all, half of his inventions had ended up in flames, or worse. Who cared that he’d been killed?

His two other useless subordinates, apparently. Why did they seem so… _sad?_ They were villains! Villains weren’t supposed to be sad, or afraid, or confused…

Black Hat paused, staring at the wreckage. Really, other than 505, the only one of his henchmen he’d seen exhibit any of those emotions were… Flug. And now Dementia, too… he had to admit it was off-putting seeing her so quiet.

Well, he’d just have to get a replacement and they’d be fine. No more problems, and everything would be back the way it used to be. Hell, maybe even better.

…Right?

 

Wrong.

As it turns out, nothing was working right. Black Hat had tried hiring and ended up firing two scientists within a week, and now _nobody_ wanted to work for him. He was stuck without anyone to make the products necessary for his catalogue, and he needed to get money somehow.

Dementia and 505 were different, too. They were quieter, more subdued. 505 was always sad and mopey, while Dementia… she was way quieter than before. Sometimes a whole day would go by and Black Hat wouldn’t see or hear her at all. It was relaxing, sure; she could be a real pain in the ass sometimes. The silence, though… it was disturbing.

As the days went by, Black Hat realized that maybe he needed Flug. After all, Flug was the only one who could actually make things, even if they didn’t work or exploded half the time. Maybe he wasn’t as useless as Black Hat always said he was.

There was a bit of a nagging sensation at this thought. Was it regret? Guilt, even? No, no way. Just… frustration that Flug was missing. That he had been _stolen._ Yes, that was it. Yes… he had to get back what had been taken from him.

W. D. Gaster had stolen Flug, now Black Hat would take him back.

 

* * *

 

 

The loneliness was more painful than Gaster remembered, and it had come back faster than he thought it would. Oh, well. Though he couldn’t talk much to Flug, it helped knowing that at least he wasn’t the only person in the building anymore. Even though at times it made things worse.

The anxiety was debilitating. He couldn’t do _anything_ without that fear of screwing up, of doing something wrong, of making everything worse. As soon as he was in the same room as Flug, whether to check up on him or to give him new assignments, it took every ounce of willpower for him to suppress the stutter that had now returned. It was awfully frustrating to have to keep checking and second-guessing himself out of fear.

But somehow, it was worse when he was alone. Because then, he could think. He could remember. He could remember everyone he let down and hurt and everything he’d ruined. Most of all, he remembered Sans and Papyrus.

He barely ever spoke directly to them anymore, and he’d done so sparingly over the past years. He distanced himself from them once he got into mob business. He had to, really, and it wasn’t even voluntary. His heightened LV just… made it happen. He got used to it, and presumably so did they after a while. It just became the new normal, as opposed to the close, loving family they once were.

And now he found himself _missing_ that family, and badly. It was a strange, unpleasant feeling, to be missing something. Especially if it was your fault it had been gone in the first place. And it _was_ Gaster’s fault. He’d caused it all. And now he was too weak and cowardly to fix it.

He was too tired to cry anymore.


End file.
